The Eccentric Apocalyptic Stride In A Minor
by spacemonkey69
Summary: Chandler wants Eddie, the fruit drying psychopath, out of his life. Missing Scene from 'TOW Eddie Wont Go'. Please read and review.


Woohoo, another story! Now, here's a brief history to this story. I started it around three months ago...well, I came up with the name three months ago. Don't ask, there's a possibility that I may have been drunk. But it sounded good and made me giggle, so I wrote it down. Since then, I've been trying to find a story that could actually have that name. Then, two nights ago when I should have been in bed, I was watching 'TOW Eddie Won't Go' which I love dearly, and I just thought 'missing scene' when watching the scene in the coffee house. You know, because I really wondered how Chandler came up with the idea of how to get Eddie out. So, today, in the midst of my depressing Smoke and Mirrors writing, I decided to cheer myself up slightly by writing this, and I'm happy...ish with it. I think. Eh, it will do, I wrote it in 20 minutes, it's good enough. So please read and review, and now that I've written my happy story, I'm going back to mucho depresso with Smoke and Mirrors. Ciao!

I do not own friends/actors/characters, but I do own a pair of frozen hands. It is like a damn igloo in this house. Makes writing loads a fun, let me tell you!

"See ya, pals."

The group watched in horror as Eddie left the coffee house joyfully, mannequins head in his hands, and Chandler felt his heart sink a little more.

"Is anyone else starting to really like him?" came Phoebe's voice and Chandler felt like putting a gun to his temple and pulling the trigger. Of course, that would mean actually purchasing a gun, and Chandler wasn't sure if he had the melons to do that. His were more like tiny, tiny grapes when it came to terrifying things like that…

Who was he kidding?

They were always like tiny, tiny grapes.

The day he grew some melon sized balls and actually went out and did something courageous, would be the day that Chandler finally walked up to the girl with the belly ring at the copier place and ripped off her clothes, ravishing her right there on the Xerox machine.

Actually, _that _in itself would take balls of steel, not melons, and he was no Superman.

"Uh, Pheebs, honey," Rachel started cautiously, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah?"

"You _like _him?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" the blonde exclaimed, and Chandler mentally pulled the gun away and placed it back in his pocket. "I said I'm starting to like him."

And the gun was back, along with his brain matter, strewn all over the wall of the coffee house. Chandler grimaced. Now that was a nice image.

"Phoebe-" Monica began.

"Yeah, it's like, you know, I wouldn't mind him poking his head into the forest of my righteous truth, you know?"

"Oh, sweet, merciful lord, I don't even know what that means, but, oh my God, Pheebs," Chandler groaned, covering his face with his hands. Monica rubbed his back soothingly.

"How are you gonna get rid of him?" she asked gently. Chandler peeked through his parted fingers, then dropped them completely.

"How? Well, I figured that I would rent out your couch as my own personal apartment, which would mean that you guys would have to knock, you know that right? And then-"

"Chandler-"

"- perhaps I would expand, you know, maybe take over the kitchen, or even Rachel's room…not yours, Mon. I mean, no offence, but your room is way too clean, and I need something a bit more mannish, which describes Rachel's room perfectly."

"Hey! My room is not mannish! It is-"

"Rachel?" The four of them looked over to find Gunther gesturing towards the waiting customers. Rachel growled under her breath, then stood, smoothing down her skirt.

"I have to serve these stupid customers, but I'm not done with you, Chandler Bing," she warned before turning on an automatic smile towards a waiting customer.

"Great. Another person out to devour my liver. You know, I think that when choosing my new roommate, I should have gone with my gut instinct that I had while reading the 'Post' and rung that H. Lector guy. I mean, he did have a few quirks that we would have agreed on, but I think, in a way, we would have gotten along better. And _he _would have left when I asked him to. Granted, he would have made me rub myself in cooking oil and jump in the oven before he left, but that's just a normal Saturday for me."

"You do that too?" Phoebe exclaimed. "My mom _loved _doing that. Well, she only did it that one time and there was no cooking oil involved, but still." Chandler stared at her for a long moment, then turned back to Monica.

"What should I do? He-elp me," he whined.

"I don't know what to do! He's your roommate!"

"Yeah, but I've already had my bright idea for the day. You fix it. You take control. You like fixing things, and we all know you get off on being controlling."

"I would be offended, but it's true, so…" Monica trailed off, looking thoughtful.

Chandler watched her hopefully, occasionally glancing up at the window, fearing both for his life, and for the lives of any more mannequins from the 'Junior Miss Department'. He shook his head sadly.

"Those plastic women never stood a chance," he murmured. Monica looked at him oddly.

"Huh?"

"What? Like you don't talk to yourself?" he snarled. Monica's lip quirked and Chandler waited for the gloves to come off.

"I'm gonna get some more coffee," she said instead. Phoebe and Chandler watched her walk off.

"You know, she strides like a man when she's angry," Chandler commented. Phoebe nodded.

"Yeah, I was gonna write a song about it once, but, I didn't…I _should _write a song about it!"

"Yeah, or you could write a song about my crazy, psychopathic, fruit drying, Las Vegas road trip, crazy, psychopathic-"

"You said crazy and psychopathic twice," Phoebe pointed out. Chandler glowered at her.

"Yeah, well, my dictionary ran away with my thesaurus, so my vocabulary is limited."

"And besides, Eddie isn't crazy-"

"Live with him, and then see if you say that."

"-he's just a bit…eccentric," Phoebe continued. Chandler snorted.

"Eccentric? More like the apocalypse. When the world ends, it won't be because of the Devil, finally crawling up from his two room apartment downstairs out of sheer boredom. It won't be because the Irish will drink one too many pints of Guinness and decide that it would be a good idea to _completely _melt the ice caps, and it _so_ wont be because Pamela Anderson gets her boobs reduced, although that will be the cause of World War Four-"

"What will be World War Three?"

"Taking Baywatch of the air, naturally. But no, none of those things will be the reason for our world's doom. It will be Eddie, with his stupid laugh, and stupid _eccentricities_, deciding that maybe, just maybe, fruit is not fun to dehydrate anymore, so he's gonna go on an imaginary road trip to the middle of crazy town and dehydrate the _world_."

"Honey, I don't think it will come to that," Monica muttered, sitting back down with her coffee.

"You don't know!"

"I _so _just thought of a song," Phoebe said suddenly, sounding slightly awestruck. "And I can sing about Eddie, the Apocalypse _and _Monica's stride!"

"What's it gonna be called? The 'Eccentric Apocalyptic Stride'?" Chandler asked sardonically.

"In A Minor," Phoebe said, nodding as if she was sane.

Monica and Chandler stared at Phoebe for a moment longer, then glanced back at each other.

"What am I going to _do_? I want him out! And I want…"

"You want what?"

"I want Joey back! Joey isn't crazy, and he doesn't keep live fish in his pocket, or fabricate trips to Las Vegas, or…"

"Well, if worst comes to worst, you may have to call the cops."

"The cops?" Chandler squeaked. "I can't call the cops! I don't have-"

"We know, we know, you don't have the balls," Rachel said soothingly as she walked past. Chandler sneered, mocking her under his breath.

"No, I definitely do not think you should call the cops. You know, when you do, they do a search on you too. That's how I got arrested. Twice."

"Yeah, because I'm a regular Charlie Manson, Pheebs."

"Hey, I hadn't done anything wrong either! They were just looking for someone to book that day. I've never broken the law," Phoebe insisted.

"A pimp spit in your mouth once, Phoebe."

"Yes, but _he _was the pimp, not me. He broke the law, I didn't."

"…alright," Chandler said after a moment's pause. Phoebe nodded, then broke out into a huge grin.

"You know what this reminds me of? Back when I was on the street, this guy, Legless Joe, used to live with me, you know, in my little corner. And he wasn't legless, he had just once threw this guy down the stairs, causing him to break both his legs so badly he had them amputated, but anyway," Phoebe waved her hand in the air dismissively, then continued, "he was staying with me, cause he was _really _nice, although he was slightly crazy. And one day, I wake up, and he is running his hand up my thigh, all the way up." Phoebe stopped, breaking into a fit of giggles. Chandler and Monica glanced at each other, then back to Phoebe. "Oh, so I hit him a couple of times, because, you know, no ones gonna touch this girl. We had a good laugh about it, I stopped his lip from bleeding, and it was funny, you know? But then he kept doing it, and it wasn't nearly as funny, and I was sick of having to sleep with both eyes open to keep an eye on him, so one day, after he came back from his midnight walk, I told him that he didn't live there, that I had no idea who he was and that I already had someone living with me, and my friend Liz was there, and crazy old Joe, he believed me! He left, and didn't come back." Phoebe giggled again, shaking his head. "That Legless Joe, he was funny. I think he died, though."

Chandler stared at Phoebe, a small smile growing on his face. He looked at Monica, who smiled back at him.

"But anyway," Phoebe continued, "how are we gonna get rid of Eddie?"


End file.
